AFTERNOON NAPS – A PHILIPPINES LIFESTYLE

My Dad over 50 years ago

In recent years, I have always loved naps. I loved to lie down after a nice lunch and let the time pass as I dozed.  Never really falling asleep, but never fully conscious seemed to be the byproduct of my dayturnal rest cycle. When I was a preschooler, during the months of winter when the snow and cold limited one’s ability to work outside, my father would take afternoon naps in front the large picture window in our living room. Even though the suns angle was low during January, its radiance created just enough heat to warm the floor my dad was sleeping upon. Since he was blind, the irritating light had no effect upon him. .  At that young age, naps were at the bottom of my list of youthful activities, but I was still too young for school and the only way dad could corral me was to make me lay down on the couch and at least rest. 

Trike Driver outside Market - Bago City

In many tropical lands, the warmth of midday always finds the masses taking a break from their daytime activities, allowing them to rest while sheltered from the solar simmering without.  Some would sit and drink native coffee while others would savor a little Tanduay (Rum) to while the hours away as heat waves rippled across the land.  Still others, I would consider those of the majority, found refuge upon beds, couches, benches and chairs. Their eyes closed to the World surrounding them; perhaps an illusory escape from the realities of life and living. 

Slow Banana Day in Binalbagan

One of the reasons I have always loved the Philippines is because of their nap structure. They may have jobs, they may have occupations, but they are unable to avoid that momentary lapse into a cycle that has existed within its culture for centuries.  While living here in the seventies, I came to appreciate their uncomplicated lifestyle and especially their afternoon respites. When I finally returned in 2009, I discovered that, even though they had acquired many of our modern technologies, they had not been able to escape those afternoon rest periods. Whether it was in the mall, at the bus terminal, or in the market, the psychological heat of the midday (whether physically experienced or not) always had its desired effect.  

Sometimes those clothes are so soft & comfy. ZZZZ!

I had become more aware of that fact in late 2010 and started documenting it with photos. It was hard to capture people in the malls as most had limited hallway seating. But in the markets and terminals, the opportunities were plentiful. Maybe it was from boredom or lack of business which caused the eyelids to become heavy; slowly succumbing to the brains coaxing.  Personally, I think it was because that’s how the human brain was originally wired. I think everyone was mentally programmed that way, but somehow the industrialized nations of the World had gotten their citizens to turn that subconscious programming off. 

A group nap at Ayala Mall in Cebu City

Case in point, remember when we were in kindergarten for half days in the states and we all had to lay down on our mats and take a short nap? Then the next year, you had a WHOLE day of school and you were not allowed to have that nap (when you really wanted one).  Let’s face it, learning was exciting, but also tiring at times. As the years of schooling progressed, the opportunity for a noontime rest continued to be denied until finally the circuit was disconnected and the programming was complete. 

Still the Philippines had maintained that link.  It had continued to live a lifestyle where naps were an

Nap time along Nat'l Hwy outside Naga City, Cebu

integral part of its very culture.  That was one of the many things I always admired about the Philippines. It had always endeavored to keep up with a modern World across its cluster of islands, but never sacrificed the ideals which set it apart from the other nations.  This leaves me to wonder if our globe would be healthier and more peaceful if everyone was required to take a thirty minute nap after lunch.

It must be noontime - my adopted kids with photo ambitions

DOGS AND ROOSTERS AND GECKOS, OH MY!!!

One afternoon I was sitting upon a bench outside the cinema at Robinson Mall in Bacolod waiting for the ticket counter to open when a middle aged man sat down beside me. His name was Kevin. He was 38 years old and a welder from British Columbia (Canada). He was thinking of living here, but had not quite decided where. He added that friends had offered him space in their home, but after three weeks he had to move out because he couldn’t handle the constant crowing of roosters and barking of dogs twenty-four hours a day.  I listened quietly as he bemoaned the fact that the noises were driving him mad. Only after he finally took a long breath did I inform him, that in the Philippines, there was no safe haven from those and many of natures other sounds. 

Two Roosters fighting

When I first returned to the Philippines in 2009, I was on the 19^th floor of a condominium and even in the middle of Manila, it was impossible to escape the crowing and barking from the side streets and alleys below. Even in the provinces, those two distinct sounds were a constant reminder that I was not in Kansas anymore. It was just a harsh fact of life within this tropical land; if you wanted to live here, there were certain things you had to accept. In essence, you had to culturally evolve with the lifestyle and all its insignificant inconveniences. I made a light hearted attempt to empathize with him and expand upon his plight, but it appeared those were not the answers he was looking for. In the end, he decided he would go to Dumaguette to find relief. I smiled and wished him luck as he slowly strolled off down the hallway.   

 

So, let’s talk about dogs. The United States has dogs, but I truly believe that there are more dogs in the Philippines than the entire human population of America.  In my compound alone, there has to be at least fifteen to twenty dogs within a group of twelve houses. Also, I have come to the conclusion that the nicer the home, the more dogs it occupied. 

Now dogs would bark in the daytime, but most times, they could be found sleeping in the shade of their “castle” or on the side of the street. While the sun was up, they were indifferent to ones passing. However, I must stress that those canine had an uncanny ability to tell friend from foe and whenever an unsavory individual walked within their territory, those culprits would be quickly dispatched by exposed teeth and a loud warning not to return. 

Yes, those dogs slept the better part of each day away, but as the sun settled into the sea, those same slumbering dogs would shake off their sleepiness and take up watch at their post. Whereas in the daylight I was invisible, it was in the twilight I was considered an intruder and treated as such. Most dogs did not attack per se, but the hair did rise on their backs and the barking was quite vicious. As I got closer to my

Chow time for future generation of guard dogs

compound, those property protectors had become accustom to my scent (?) and ignored me completely. Still, several times throughout the night, the pack of dogs in my compound would be warding off potential trespassers.  One other thing about those canines was if a dog down the street set off the alarm, the dogs here would race to the gate and continue the alert. At first, all that barking was inconvenient, but one morning after I had seen the gate where my motorbike was parked behind had been tampered with, but unsuccessfully opened, I decided their racket wasn’t so bad after all.

Roosters.  The Filipinos are very fond of their roosters and there are actually farms that raise roosters.  There could be hundreds of little lean-tos’ with a rooster in each one within a gigantic field. You would find roosters on man-made wooden limbs or branches of trees and they would all be securely tied with a cord around one leg to a pole. Rarely did you ever see a free range rooster. The humorous thing about them was they crowed just as much at midnight as they did at noon.  I would be laying in bed late at night or perhaps wakeup at two or three in the morning to the loud flapping of wings followed by a “Cock-a-Doodle Doo!” But what compounded the misery was that if one rooster crowed, then every rooster within a kilometer of him had to follow suit; hence you got a crescendo sort of effect (kind of like, “Row, Row, Row Your Boat except it was in crowing). After a minute or two, the calling quieted down until another rooster got that involuntary urge to crow and thus the routine started all over again. It would last all night AND all

New Cock Fighting Arena Under Construction

day. Now, I felt fortunate as the rooster next door must be tone deaf because he always sang off key. The other roosters had a pretty good (albeit monotonous) pitch when crowing, but the poor performer next door was always a bit off key. Where the others crowed, “Cock-a-Doodle Doo,” his sounded like, “Cuck-a-Duddle Dud!” Even at three in the morning, it would still bring a smile to my slumbering face. 

Now I am sure there are those of you wondering why all of the Roosters? The Filipinos are proud of their male fowl and a favorite sport activity is cock fighting. You will always see the men carrying their favorite Rooster cradled in their arm. They trade or sell their Roosters and seem to raise one heck of a lot of them and if their prized pet won in a cock fight, it was financially rewarding to them as well. 

Just like dogs, you eventually got used to the roosters racket and accepted the fact that you had to tune their burdensome voices out and I learned to do that quite easily.

Hmmm, Geckos. We are not talking about a GEICO commercial here. We are talking about little four legged creatures that walk on the ceilings, walls, and in my case, floors. During the daylight hours they are quiet, but at night they are quite vocal. Not as loud and obnoxious as dogs or roosters, but you hear them all the same. Most leave humans alones, but I have to admit, I have enjoyed my Gecko friends. There was an adult (who had lost its tail) who would walk up to my bare feet and sniff them. It loved the crumbs that fell to the floor selecting them over nearby ants. Another juvenile gecko would snuggle under my computer for warmth (?). He ran up my leg one day…I had to admit, it was tingling. Then there is the baby gecko who would hang from the wall or ceiling in my bed chamber. Twice it had raised its head off the walls surface, looked at its surroundings and then without warning jumped. Once it landed on the bed scampering off after a few moments. The other time it landed on the floor and skittered under the door and out of the room. I am not quite sure how I would take it if the tiny lizard jumped on me while I slept, but those are the risks you take living here. Those four legged creatures with tails may not be the greatest bug killers, but they do seem to be content with my crumbly droppings and I also think my company. Yes, I tell them hello every day. There are times when the housekeeper hears me talk to them and I am confident she thinks I am a bit loco loco, but let’s face it; they give me some semblance of companionship. Besides, I don’t have to feed them, and I am sure they eat a few ants every once in awhile.  

OWLS, MINIBUSES, WHITE LADIES, & BICYCLING

There are many beautiful things within this tropical paradise. Last year, I discovered an owl scale at Diana’s house and her family was all confessed that they had never seen an owl and doubted if there were any in the entire Philippines. Of course, that provided me a challenge and I quickly raced back to my cottage and researched it on the internet.  There were in fact a couple different breed of owls in the islands, but to my dismay, I never saw one…until the other day.

I was walking down Segovia Street when I was informed a resident had an owl living with their roosters. I walked over to a bamboo enclosure and sure enough a Grass Owl was tethered inside with two roosters.  Of course the roosters gave him space just as the owlet was happy to separate itself from them.  Its face reminded me of Barn Owls in the States and found the feathers to be quite similar in design to the Barn Owl too.

OK, the Grass Owl resides throughout the Philippines (or so the books say).  It does not roost in trees, but hides within dense thickets of brush and grass. It only hunts in the twilight or nighttime hours. Its main source of nourishment is rodents. 

As I stood just inside the enclosure to get a few good shots, it tilted its head and chirped at me in a curious way. The owner told me that someone had found it and he had bought it. In a way, I truly felt sorry for a creature born to fly freely over the land in search of food.  Being fed meat in a dish was not living for that feathered fowl and I actually departed with some sadness in my heart.  Some animals were never meant to be caged. 

---

Yesterday around noon a minibus missed a very shallow or slight curve and crashed into a deep ravine.  There were forty passengers within a transport built for a thirty-five.  A pregnant woman and her eight year old son perished in the crash, along with many who were severely injured. All of the injured were transported fifty miles to hospitals in Bacolod. The bus driver stated to police that he had seen “the white lady” (ghost) and swerved to avoid hitting her.  The authorities figured the thirty year old driver was either traveling too fast with an overloaded bus or fell asleep behind the wheel.  He did miss the concrete bridge railing by an inch or so, but not the tree on the other side of the foliage filled chasm. 

---

 The “White Lady” in the Philippines – In many countries, including the United States, there has been stories about the “White Lady” and the Philippines was no different.  When I was stationed here in the mid 70s, I heard of the “White Lady” or “Headless Lady” in Zambales Province.  It was believed that if you saw either one of those apparitions, your time on this earth was short and your demise would be gruesome.  However the most notable story about the “White Lady” was the one on Balete Drive in Quezon City.  . It is said that it was a ghost who appeared as a long-haired woman in a white dress. According to legend, she was driving in Balete Drive when she crashed her car resulting in her death. Most of the stories that have come out about her were told by taxi drivers working the graveyard shift. In other instances it’s been said that when solitary people drove by Balete Drive in the wee hours of the morning, they tended to see the face of a woman in white in the rear view mirror for a split second before the apparition disappeared. Some accidents on this road have actually been blamed on the White Lady.

---

Ten days ago, I started riding down that stretch of highway where the accident occurred yesterday.  Since resuming my physical exercise (or early demise, whichever you feel might be appropriate) I had come to some new conclusions about the highways and traffic in the Philippines. Although I had truly felt for a long time that motorcyclists were an inconvenience to cars and trucks and that those four or more wheeled vehicles would just as soon drive you off the road or run you over as to show any form of courteous consideration, I had discovered a different side in regard to bicycles. Except for one sugar cane truck who forced me off the road as it passed a slower vehicle, the remainder (especially buses) were more than accommodating to my tortuous plight.  If anything (including another motorbike) was coming from the opposite direction, the traffic in my lane would literally slow down and follow my 20 kilometer per hour (12 mph) until it was completely safe to pass.   In the states, they would have pushed you off the road (my son Bradly and I would attest to that too many times), but here it was as if you are a sacred object.  Now I can’t put an exact finger on it yet as to why, but when I figure it out, you will be the first to know. 

Sometimes I would draft behind a trike or sugar cane truck, that’s if they were going slow enough and I was not too exhausted.   Drafting is DANGEROUS and I don’t advise it, but it was always nice when you could be directly behind another vehicle and pulled along by its vacuum. Now, in case you were wondering if I was going thirty or forty miles per hour, that was never the case. I should also add that you pedaled your butt off to keep on their tail.  The most I ever cruised at was a mere twenty miles per hour.  Let’s face facts; they just don’t drive that fast in this country.

I must admit though that I did notice some similarities between the States and here in bicycling in that there was always a wind to contend with. Sometimes the breeze would be from the south, but mostly it blew from the north.   Now the clouds may travel east to west, but it appeared that those clouds never bothered to tell the surface winds of their direction.  Another fact of life was that flat tires existed no matter where you lived.  Even though I never had to change a tire on the present bike in the states, it only took a week for the rear tire to go flat here.  Nice little puncture in the side….go figure.

You know, even though it is only Wednesday, I learned a lot about many things this week. One was I should not ride buses, no matter what.  Secondly, owls definitely exist on the island of Negros. Thirdly I decided I needed to look over my shoulder more often when being approached from behind by buses.  And finally, the land and climate might change, but the winds and flat tires never will.

BAMBOO, RE-BAR, MEMORIES & TROPICAL STORMS

 With Tropical Storm Washi (or Sendong in the Philippines), passing just to the south of Negros the other day, it gives me some time to settle down, watch the palm trees sway in the tropical breeze, drink a ice filled glass of tubig (water) and recount of the recent experiences I have encountered.

Before I begin, I want to stress that what I write should, in no way, depict a negative light on the Philippines.  I love this country. It may have its own unique qualities, but that is why I love it here. If you get out into the provinces, you discover an innocence, which is quite refreshing.  Most will talk about the foreigners being taken advantage of, but once I got away from the metropolitan centers that ceased to be an issue. Most of its citizens are honest and hard working.  The living conditions may be challenging in some locations, but as a whole, it is a lifestyle I have grown accustom to.

Since most of my observations have been from the highway (except for a couple of walks I have already completed), much of my writings have reflected that.  Hence, I will add a nice little story to this chapter.

One item I have not touched upon yet is the transportation of bamboo among other commodities.  Most times you will see bamboo pulled by a trike. I have seen it pulled by a trisikad and even hauled in a straight truck.  In the cases of the trikes and trisikads, the bamboo would hang about six or seven feet in front of the vehicle.  They would be elevated about three or four feet off the ground, sort of like a bunch of jousting lances waiting to skewer some unsuspecting bicyclist or pedestrian from behind.  But wait, the same bamboo would also be dragging on the ground another ten or more feet behind the trikes.  There were never any flags at either end, so you had to be alert.  How often did that occur? I would see at least one trike each day as I traveled down the highway.  Now, the trucks were a little different.  Their boxes were usually about twenty feet in length, but the bamboo was so long and cumbersome that it would also drug on the ground.  Again, no flags would be attached to warn approaching motorists.

So, my little story occurred in 1974 while stationed at the Communications Station in San Miguel.  In those days, street lighting was not that good (if there was any at all and none existed during brownouts) and the carts with Carabao (Water Buffalo) would literally crawl down the highways after dark, thus you had to be “aware” of what was going on about you at all times. One day, it came to my attention that a Marine Sergeant had been riding down the highway at a rather aggressive speed after dark.  Unfortunately, the wooden cart (which had no slow moving vehicle sign on its back) was hauling a load of bamboo.  Of course, the biker did not see the cart until it was too late and was thusly impaled upon the elevated bamboo.  That was the first time I had heard of the term “Biker on a stick” and it literally stuck with me.  I did have a motorbike at the time and was commuting thirty miles each day to visit my wife who had just delivered our second son at the Naval Hospital in Subic Bay.  With that tragedy fresh in my mind, the thought of that term reminded me of the unseen hazards one might face after sunset.

Another commodity hauled frequently by trike was re-bar.  Those were metal rods used to reinforce concrete walls and pillars.  You did hear a hissing sound when passing or coming upon a load of bamboos as it slid along the pavement.  However, the re-bar had a musical sound to it as it (sometimes) sparked its way over the concrete.  It may not be an acceptable form of transporting those items in the states, but it works quite easily here.

Yesterday, just north of Hinigaran, a young dog had been hit by something that morning.  I have seen cats left on the road to be smashed into oblivion by the constant stream of traffic, but by the time I passed by the same spot on my return home, the dog was nowhere to be seen.  Which left me to wonder if it wasn’t buried in somebody’s belly later that day. 

The dark grey clouds persist as the winds assault the palm tops of the trees, yet no rain has fallen since last night. A few minutes ago, a couple of children were wearing coats and knitted caps as they jumped on the motorbike with their parents to go somewhere.  Yes, they will actually pack four and five people on a motorbike here.  Still, even with the cooling breezes here and the local residents chilled by them, I find them refreshing and does give me a faint reminder of Iowa in the late Spring or early Fall.

SUNSETS IN THE PHILIPPINES

I have always loved sunsets.  As a youth I would sit and watch the sun slowly settle behind distant trees, its flaming light sparkling through the upper branches. Then as I became older I would park the car atop a bluff on the Southwest side of town and gaze as that blinding orb sank below the distant horizon of corn and bean fields.  When life wasn’t all that it should be, I could always find solace in the sunsets which calmed my troubled spirit and soothed a restless soul. 

During my tour in the Philippines with the US Navy, my operations building was located just a few hundred feet from the South China Sea. I was an analyst at the time, but on the evenings when work was light or my tasks were completed, I would sit upon the two step stoop and let my mind wander as old sol dropped into the turquoise waters.   As dusk consumed the day and the darkness of another night unfolded, bouncing lights from the many small fishing boats slowly appeared.  When working the midnight shift (we worked on a rotation basis of days, midnights, and evenings), the sea of banca boat lights seemed to be a reflection of the constellations overhead. The heat and humidity of the night’s air seemed to accentuate the life around me.  I never forgot those sunsets.  They were branded within the few gray cells I possessed; sometimes it was a curse, while at other times a blessing of my many memories of the Philippines.

After returning to the States, I yearned to find the beauty of those sunsets I so enjoyed in the Philippines.  I tried California, Washington and even the Gulf Coast of Florida, but they didn’t have the same allure. Even the sunrises in Maine did not sooth me the way those tropical sunsets in that far distant land had done.  So, I spent the next thirty-three years searching in vain for something that didn’t exist within my country.  Perhaps it was the weather conditions, or the incessant crowds who packed the beaches each night. Maybe it was the wrong odors, unusual noises, or even the color of the water that bred unfamiliarity.  All I knew was that nothing could duplicate what I had experienced almost nightly for almost three years. 

In 2009 I returned to that island paradise and almost immediately headed toward the west coast.  My first night I stayed on the coastline just south of Santa Cruz. The beach was of white sand and the water was crystal clear, but as I sat upon the solar warmed grains of rock watching the light of life slowly drop into the silent sea, I felt something missing.  My heart sank just a little as I feared that what had been in the past, may have well been an illusion.  That I was mentally grasping for that proverbial pot of gold at the end of a non-existent rainbow.  I retired that evening in my night room, but was unable shake the dour disposition that strived to consume my very soul.

The next day, I ventured about fifty miles further south to a resort outside of Iba.  Again, the sand was white, but the terrain looked more familiar and it was there upon that coast I rediscovered what I had lost.  I looked for something, anything to explain the reason for my contentment, but it was there all the same.  As the yellow orb settled below the distant waters, a peaceful calm flowed within.  It was as if I had never been gone.  A slight puff of warm humid air brushed my cheeks as the aroma of nearby cooking wood fires tickled my senses. The calamity of the birds settling in for the evening and the sounds of geckos calling in the twilight brought back more and more memories of a paradise long ago taken for granted by its natives.  For those lingering moments I was no longer fifty-eight years old, but a young adult of twenty-four once again. 

I returned to the Philippines in 2010 and meandered about the big  island of Luzon, but except for that small segment of coastline, the sunsets were, for lack of a better word, uninspiring.  I took a bus down to the island of Cebu after hearing such great praises of the land down south.  When I did settle onto the west coast of the island, I discovered the sun never did find the sea there as the island of Negros (immediately to the west of Cebu) consistently blocked the view.  The sun was beautiful as it slowly sank toward the distant mountaintops, but there the feeling ended.  I guess sunsets were like a drug to me.  In a way I considered it similar to alcohol, cocaine, or prescription drugs, as that setting sun provided me with a psychological and somewhat euphoric high.   

 

In February of 2011 I ventured over to that island of Negros and visited the west coast. I stayed at a resort there and discovered the most beautiful sunsets ever.  I was there for three nights and each night’s spectacle was mesmerizing in its beauty.  The colors in the sky, the texture of the waters, the subtlety and angel like movements of that descending sphere left me speechless.  I was immediately hooked forever.

I moved here in July 2011 and have always been inspired by each sunset I have had the opportunity to savor.  Since there’s no dry season here, about half of the time, the setting sun would drift downward behind dark clouds, but all it resulted in was to make those unobscured sunsets all that more spectacular. Sometimes I would sit on my motorbike, chin in hand, and wonder at the beauty.  Other times I would bring my camera and take digital memories of those golden rays as they flashed atop the rolling waves of the Sulu Sea. 

In this tiny globe of ours, everyone is in a hurry to make their mark in society.  Little do they realize that the true measure of success is to find that one thing which helps them to momentarily escape the spinning wheels of humanities madness.  I found mine in the setting sun.  It is that flaming ball of gas which has soothed me when my World was falling apart.  Old sol comforted me when I had no direction in my life.  And it will guide me when the time comes to move onto that final phase of my existence.

MOVIES IN THE PHILIPPINES

I spent over a year operating a movie theater in Iowa. It was a one-screen operation with a single projector in the booth above.  The cinema had been renovated over the years and I thought it really had character; at least the projection equipment definitely had an attitude.  Still, during that time, I was able to resolve most of the problems. I can even laugh at some of them now, but at the time, they were (in my mind) embarrassingly catastrophic. 

Although I had many experiences and adventures with operating that movie house; over the past few months, I had come to enjoy the simple predicaments experienced at the theaters in the Philippines.  

At my theater in the states, the entire movie was spliced from several reels into one gigantic reel, which was situated upon a platter alleviating the need of two projectors.  However, in the Philippines, they still utilized the old style two projector system as the equipment alternated between many reels. When I was on the island of Cebu, there was never a problem when the movies were being shown. The one theater I frequented had their system down to a science and there were never any unfortunate episodes. However, on the island of Negros, more specifically in the city of Bacolod, it was a different experience altogether.

I discovered three multiplex cinemas in that provincial capitol.  Gaisano’s Mall as well as SM Mall each had four screens, while Robinson’s Mall has a six-screen cinema.  Gaisano’s was the oldest theater of the three and its small archaic seats, musty odor, along with its unkempt feel betrayed its age.  SM’s theater was probably the newest of the three and the seats were large and comfortable. There was no musty aroma within any of its four screening rooms. Although Robinson’s Mall was not as old as Gaisano’s, it was not as new as SM’s either. The seats were large and comfortable, yet the interior of the theater was showing its age. There were a few seats that were broken in the stadium seating area, but instead of repairing or replacing them, tape was just placed over the seat.  Of the three theaters, only Robinson’s was like that.

All three theaters had floor level as well as stadium seating and the sound systems were excellent. I always took the first showing at every theater as I wanted to beat the rush hour traffic if there was such a thing in the Philippines. At Gaisano’s there were times when a first run feature was being shown and I would be the only one in the auditorium.  In SM and Robinson’s, there was always a smattering of attendees, but nothing like in the states.  Probably the main reason for that was it was during a weekday and I always went to the first showing of the day. The only exception to that rule was the movie "Breaking Dawn" (Twilight Saga) and I could not find an empty seat in any of the cinemas on the first day.  In fact, they were taking reservations for the next day.  Oh, let me briefly explain about the movies shown.  Most of the features from the U.S. were action, mystery, or comedy. It seems the romantic, along with a sprinkling of comedic, movies are mostly in Tagalog (Filipino). Yep, last year when all they had was Tagalog movies for an entire month, I broke down and saw one (Rosalyn). Actually it was pretty good, thank goodness for the subtitles that accompanied it.  Now the American movies would arrive in the Philippines a few weeks (sometimes months) after their release in the States, but there were exceptions.  Breaking Dawn, Mission Impossible 4, and Real Steel were three examples and there was actually one (Adventures of Tin Tin) which was shown a month before its premier stateside.

SM and Robinson’s had concession stands. Even though SM’s was pretty small,  Robinson’s was pretty extensive, but their popcorn (even when freshly popped) did not taste right.  The machines were small (like the little ones you would see for sale in the States) and the flavor/texture was somehow lacking.  I did not try any of the candy.  However, they had all kinds of (for lack of a better word) “snack” stands around the theaters.  I even saw people bringing boxes of pizza into the theaters.  French Fries are a big thing in the PI and thus I would buy a large container of fresh fried string potatoes and also purchase a banana split shake at the neighboring stand.  I loved their ripe mango shakes, but they did not like me.  Hmmm, on one such gastro-intestinal episode I came out to wash my hands after the fact and there was this “woman” standing at the sink next to me.  I was taken aback by that sight and for a moment thought I had trespassed into the wrong comfort room, but beside “her” were a half dozen urinals.  I moved two sinks down to cleanse my hands From then on, I refrained from using any restrooms until I returned home.

So there I am munching on steamy fresh fries and quenching my parched thirst with frozen shake, just sitting back and enjoying the feature; when suddenly the projector runs out of film  and the room goes black.  Utter silence fills the air as the seconds tick away. The chomping of food could now be heard from the others scattered about the seated loft as we patiently waited for the projectionist to realize there was no movie playing in our theater.  Suddenly, the thumping sounds of running feet could be heard in the projection gallery; there is the faint flip of a switch, and the movie instantly returns to the wide screen below. 

Some of you may be of the impression that this is a rare occurrence, but let me assure you that it can be expected on the first or second reel of every movie (including “Breaking Dawn”).  In the States there would have been cat calls and people loudly grumbling within the theater, but here it is quietly accepted and I equate it as part of the Philippine experience.  

In the beginning I thought it was rather inept on the part of the theaters, but now I consider it a part of my admission fee.  And with being a senior citizen, I get a 20% discount on every ticket I purchase, I am even happier with the extra perks I receive at the theaters.